


You Say Bark, I Say Bite

by nastyspaghetti



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angry Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Don't copy to other sites, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Protective Crowley (Good Omens), Romance, Sad Aziraphale (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:55:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23714761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nastyspaghetti/pseuds/nastyspaghetti
Summary: What Crowley was actually thinking during Warlock's eleventh birthday party.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 43





	You Say Bark, I Say Bite

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KannaOphelia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KannaOphelia/gifts).



It _hadn't_ been a nice day.

Crowley could feel his insides twisting and turning, he was extremely nervous and he absolutely despised it.

Demon's weren't supposed to feel _anything_.

Beads of sweat began to form on Crowley's forehead as he watched his idiotic husband walk onto a small stage that was lifted slightly off the ground by a platform.

Crowley let out a sigh, he sniffed and looked around at the people inside the tent.

There were too many bodyguards to count, they crowded the small area and kept an eye out for any trouble, they were all dressed in suits with white coats, black ties and black dress pants.

Crowley felt like he was suffocating in this ridiculous outfit, he thought he looked like a fucking clown.

Today was the day, the big day.

The day that would set Armageddon into motion.

The Antichrist's eleventh birthday.

Crowley and Aziraphale had been waiting for this moment ever since the Antichrist was born.

In exactly fifteen minutes, Hell would deliver their own special birthday present to the Antichrist.

The Hellhound.

Crowley knew that as soon as the Antichrist named the dog, the boy would come into his power and Earth would be doomed.

Crowley glanced periodically at his watch, the seconds continued to tick away.

There were about twenty children sitting on the ground, some were staring up at Aziraphale while others were either daydreaming or looking at their phones.

Crowley's eyes fell onto the back of one of the boys' heads, Warlock Dowling, who was currently rolling his eyes at Aziraphale's pathetic attempts to entertain him.

Warlock went by a few other names though, such as the Adversary, Destroyer of Kings, Angel of the Bottomless Pit, Prince of the World, the Lord of Darkness and the most famous one, the Antichrist.

 _Ten more minutes_ , Crowley thought as he looked up at Aziraphale nervously. _Keep it up, angel, you're doing great._

Crowley's gaze didn't leave Aziraphale, the demon bit his lip and inwardly chuckled at his husband.

The angel wore a black suit with a tan undershirt and bow tie, he had drawn on a black, curled mustache on his lips, his blonde curls bounced up and down and the golden wedding ring that squeezed the skin on his plumb finger, it glimmered in the sunlight.

Crowley looked down at his watch again, but found that his eyes drifted over to his own wedding ring, a small smile crept onto his lips.

 _Silly angel_ , Crowley thought as he flinched at the sound of a balloon popping behind him. _You and your magic acts, what'll I ever do with you_?

"For my next trick," Aziraphale began with a wide smile. "I'll pull a cloth out of my nose!"

"Oh," Crowley muttered under his breath. "This'll be fun."

"When can we eat cake?" one of the children on the ground whined.

Crowley looked daggers at the child's stupid hairline.

 _Ungrateful little shit,_ Crowley thoughts snarled as he let out a small cough. _Leave_ _him_ _alone_.

"This is _so_ _ooo_ boring!" another child chimed in.

"You will get cake soon enough," Aziraphale chuckled nervously as he began to unravel a multicolored cloth from its container. "You can have _all_ the cake you want after you have been thoroughly amazed!"

"Bullshit!" Warlock spat as he glared at Aziraphale.

Aziraphale's lips tightened before he fell into a fit of laughter, he was almost finished with stuffing the cloth into his hand, the angel's expression was flustered.

Meanwhile, Crowley's insides were burning up, he had nothing against children, but this batch was being absolutely horrendous.

Crowley couldn't believe how rude Warlock was being towards his husband, didn't Nanny Ashtoreth teach him anything useful?

Aside from, you know, taking over the goddamn world.

"Right," Aziraphale said as he continued with his next trick. "Watch closely!"

The children all let out a collective sigh, which made Crowley want to bash his skull in.

 _Didn't your mother_ _s_ _teach any of you little fuckers manners_?! Crowley's thoughts growled as he glanced down at his watch again.

Seven minutes.

Crowley bounced on the balls of his heels and caught a glance from Aziraphale, who had just finished up the cloth trick.

Crowley felt like clapping, or possessing the person nearest to him just to make the person scream, yell or shout something to boost the angel's confidence.

Aziraphale looked like he was dying on the stage, the poor thing.

Crowley couldn't bring himself to do such a thing though, it would cause a scene and surely Hell would know about it.

Hastur would never let that go.

Five minutes.

 _For Heav- Sata- somebody's sake, angel_ , Crowley's thoughts screamed. _Use a bloody miracle, Aziraphale_!

Aziraphale shot his husband a look as if to say, "Now, where's the fun in that, Crowley?".

Three minutes.

The time of the Hellhound's arrival was upon them.

Crowley closed his eyes that were shielded by his sunglasses in an attempt to relax himself, he needed to think of something... calming.

An image of Aziraphale popped into his head, the Principality was wearing the same outfit that he was currently wearing.

Crowley smiled to himself and let his imagination run wild.

The demon was now standing in front of the flustered angel, he stared into Aziraphale's blue eyes and began to undo his bowtie while Aziraphale placed his hands on Crowley's chest and sighed.

The two weren't talking, just smiling at each other.

Crowley continued to peel off the layers of Aziraphale's clothing, Aziraphale followed by doing the same thing to Crowley.

The angel and demon smirked at each other before locking into a passionate kiss.

Their chilled skin touched as their hands ran through each other's hair, soft moans escaped their lips until—

"You're _rubbish_!" Warlock exclaimed, clearly fed up with Aziraphale's antics.

Crowley's eyes snapped open, he saw that Aziraphale was holding a rabbit and the kids on the ground were complaining.

The demon's head flopped down towards his chest as he looked at his watch again.

Thirty seconds.

 _HOLY FUCK_!! Crowley's thought's shrieked as his gaze never left his watch, the seconds continued to melt away.

Now, almost all the kids were chattering away, not even bothering to give poor Aziraphale a chance to speak or perform more of his tricks.

"Three, two," Crowley muttered through gritted teeth and nervous glances towards an opening on the side of the tent. "One."

Crowley's watch read three o'clock.

The demon could practically hear Hastur from Hell announcing the order for the Hellhound to find it's master.

A massive, cake filled food fight ensued, leaving Crowley to quickly leave the party and Aziraphale to look around helplessly as he got covered in cake.

•••

Now, the two were safe within the Bentley.

Crowley has just had a lovely little chat with Dagon, Lord of the Files.

Crowley and Aziraphale have also just realized that they've been looking after the wrong boy for all this time.

The Hellhound never showed up to Warlock's party and they had lost the Antichrist.

"So, Crowley," Aziraphale huffed as he wiped a smear of cake off his cheek. "What should we do now?"

"I have no fucking clue, angel," Crowley muttered as he turned off the radio in the Bentley. "We've really screwed up."

"Indeed," Aziraphale nodded. "Don't lose _all_ hope though, my love."

Crowley groaned and leaned his head back.

Aziraphale studied his index finger, which was covered in cake, he reached over and booped Crowley's nose with it.

Crowley's eyes narrowed as he turned to face Aziraphale.

"What the fuck was _that_ , angel?" Crowley asked.

Before Aziraphale could reply, Crowley took the angel by the cheeks and trapped him in a kiss.

Armageddon, the Antichrist and the Hellhound could all wait.

Right now, Crowley was only focused on performing his _own_ magic tricks for his beloved angel.


End file.
